


One last adventure

by polite_warning



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cancer, Domestic Fluff, Drug Use, M/M, Pre-film modern au, Sex in a Car, Sickfic, Wrestling, if that makes any sense, omg you have no idea how much angst seriously, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polite_warning/pseuds/polite_warning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kinkmeme--OP asked for a modern AU with Slit and Nux as tatted/pierced punk boys but Nux still has cancer. This is what I came up with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Warning: You are about to enter the brain of Slit, which means angst in this story.  
  
  
  
Nux’s shivering wakes him and Slit squints until the blurry red lines on the table spell out 3:26 AM. He focuses on the agitated body next to him, Nux’s forehead wrinkled, teeth chattering, lower body suctioned up to Slit’s leg like a symbiotic fungus. “Shit,” groans the older boy, making an attempt to wrap Nux up in their fleece throw like a burrito. He gets a knee to the balls for his efforts.   
  
Nux makes a scratchy sound in his throat, more of a growl than a groan and turns to face the back of the sofa. They sleep so squished up, it’s a wonder to Slit that he could even feel cold. But, night after night, Nux shivers and sweats and grapples Slit in his sleep, which winds up with them on top of each other on the hard floor.   
  
Those are the good nights, Slit thinks. The nights when Nux isn’t getting hit with chemo side effects and gagging on the bathroom floor. The nights when Slit can get some sleep because he’s convinced himself that Nux will get better. That he doesn’t look skinny or pale or washed out. That the leukemia will just go away and he won’t have to go through chemo again.   
  
Slit rustles forward until his hips are snug against Nux’s. “Last time I try’n be nice to your worthless ass,” he grumbles. With his chest against Nux’s back, he can feel Nux’s heart beat, slow and steady. It helps him sleep again.  
  
In the morning, Slit counts out 12 pills, a rainbow of pharmacology, exactly the way the nurse showed him. He leaves them in a little line on the rim of the sink and doesn’t say a word about them. While making instant coffee in the half-kitchen, he can hear Nux stumbling around their cluttered apartment, swearing under his breath when he catches his toe on the edge of the coffee table. Again. More stumbling, griping and then the bathroom door shuts.   
  
Nux joins him at their small table moments later and Slit assumes that all 12 pills have been guzzled down and he hands him a cup of coffee, three sugars, plenty of milk.   
  
“Got a kink in my neck from that stupid sofa,” Nux complains dryly, not himself until he’s had his morning caffeine. When Slit looks up, all he sees for a split-second is a corpse, a specter taken over his friend’s body.   
  
“Poor baby,” Slit snarks through a bone-dry throat. He quickly drinks a swallow of coffee to cover it up. Nux doesn’t have dark rings around his eyes. It’s just the bad lighting in their crummy apartment. “You want me to kiss it all better?” Nux’s fingers aren’t trembling from weakness. He’s just all keyed-up, as usual, fucking gerbil on crack.   
  
“Kiss my ass while you’re at it,” Nux replies, slugging him hard in the ribs.   
  
“Ah, Jesus!” Slit hisses. See? Sick people can’t hit that hard. He’s fine. “You fucking deadbeat.” Slit flicks him in the ear, then turns his body away, trying to look over an auto magazine. He assumes that’ll be the end of it. Attention is what Nux wants and Slit doesn’t have to give it to him.  
  
And then he’s on the floor after a rough tackle around his waist, Nux straddling him, slapping the shit out of him at least twice. The magazine lands somewhere between the fridge and the wall and coffee sloshes out of their cups when they jostle the table. Slit growls and grabs for Nux’s wrists, trying to hold him still, but Nux just knees him in the ribs until Slit flips him on his back, sliding over him nimbly.  
  
“Started something you can’t finish, eh? As usual?” Slit taunts him, holding his wrists against the hard floor. Nux tries to buck him off like it’s a rodeo, but Slit has gravity and an easy twenty pounds to his advantage.   
  
“Get off me!” Nux barks. “Fuck’s sake!”   
  
“You love it,” Slit says, leaning in like they’re about to kiss. He narrowly avoids getting head-butted and ends up losing his grip on the other boy’s wrists. Now Nux is out for blood and grabs him by the ankle, knocking Slit to the floor. They tussle this way for about five minutes before they’re sitting on opposite sides of the room, scuffed up and panting. Slit stands up and offers his hand to pull Nux back to his feet.   
  
After briefly hesitating, Nux accepts and Slit jerks him to his feet, putting him off balance. As Nux is trailing back to the sofa, Slit slaps him on the ass. “Good game,” he jokes, tongue sticking out between his teeth in a triumphant smile.  
  
Slit avoids piles of clothes and moldy towels on his way to the shower. Getting the grime and sweat off him is the easy part. So far, no matter what soap he uses, Slit can’t wash off the nagging fear that whispers cruelly whenever Nux gets a cold or a nosebleed. He ignores it, mostly, but still it grows and gets louder every day.   
  
When he returns, dressed and fairly clean, Nux is still in his boxers and t-shirt, watching a freestyle motocross competition on TV. A competitor jumps a gap, handstanding in mid-air before landing safely. “Betcha I could do that,” Nux says, hypnotized by the jumps. “Just need to start practicin’ again.”  
  
Slit scoffs at him. “Yeah, right. You’d bust your ass. Dislocate something just trying to get up to the hill.” He dodges a pillow thrown at his face. “I’m goin’ to the garage for a while. Got a couple of fixes and modifications lined up.”  
  
Nux is suddenly distracted from the competition. “I’ll go with you, give you a hand,” he says, looking for the pants he lost somewhere in the nest of blankets.  
  
“Nah,” Slit stops him. It’s freezing outside and they both know it. “You can’t. Too sick, you might catch the common cold and choke to death in your sleep,” he sneers. It’s too close to the truth and Nux falls silent. Slit claws his way out of the crushing guilt that threatens to smother him. “’sides, you’re sposed to be studying for your cert test. Fail it again and you’ve got to wait another year. Joe’ll find someone to replace you, won’t wait around for the likes of you.”  
  
“I can do the work!” Nux snaps. “It’s that stupid test, it’s just fucking stupid!” Their boss, Joe, started to require that all the boys working for him get a certification in mechanics. Those who weren’t able were kicked to the curb. Nux had one last chance to get it right after two miserable fails on the written test.   
  
“Shoulda paid attention when they tried to teach you readin’ in school,” Slit teases, happy with the balance they’re back to.  
  
“I know how to fucking read, Slit!” Nux snaps again. He loses steam quickly, sinking into the couch like he’s become a part of it.  
  
“Right,” Slit laughs. “How did you pronounce that word on the takeout menu last night again?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Nux grumbles.  
  
“Fuck you too,” Slit replies, heading out.


	2. 2

Slit returns after the sun has gone down and he’s more grease and motor oil than human. He brings home a couple of sandwiches—including the Reuben, which Nux had botched pronouncing the night before—and even stops by the off-license to grab some booze. Nux has been texting him all day, pestering him about everything from where to find his black skully—how was he supposed to know?—to sending him a dozen pictures of tattoos Nux had wanted for about 30 seconds. Slit rarely responds to Nux’s text onslaught; what’s the point? By the time Slit could put a thought together to send, Nux is already onto the next topic.   
  
Slit comes in, the apartment dark and quiet. The only light is the glow from the TV Nux is sat in front of, smoking.   
  
He puts the sandwiches on the counter and flips on the overhead light. “Thought you weren’t sposed to have those,” he points out. “What with the cancer.”  
  
Nux blows a stream of smoke out his mouth, coming to join Slit at the table. “It’s spliff, not cigarettes,” he claims. “Takes the edge off. You want one?”  
  
Slit shrugs, nicking the one Nux has in his hand and taking a drag. “I don’t think it matters,” he says. “All of it’s bad for your lungs.” Slit passes the poorly rolled blunt back to him.   
  
Nux puts out his spliff on the ash tray, trading it for a beer. “How’d that mod on the Citroen turn out?” he asks, ripping at the sandwich Slit brought him.  
  
“Wrong parts,” Slit answers, “but I think the owner’ll like what I did to it anyway.” He has that mischievous grin on his face that makes his cheek piercings look like dimples.  
  
Nux smiles back. “Go much faster now, will it?” he says rhetorically.   
  
“I imagine so,” Slit answers. “Anything good on tonight?” He nods to the TV that Nux has been watching, likely all day, dodging any studying for his test.  
  
Nux stretches awkwardly and yawns. “Think I’m just goin’ to bed, Slit,” he says.   
  
“Oh…right,” Slit says in reply. Is he already that tired? It’s barely gone 8. As Nux shuffles toward the sofa, beer in hand, Slit starts to worry about him. It’s not until he splays his limbs out in a display of what Nux thinks of as seduction that Slit can relax. He smirks. “Gonna be like that, is it?” he asks. Slit strips off his shirt as he saunters toward Nux. He knows that he smells like a grease pit, but he’s never heard any complaints.  
  
Nux lies back against a couple of flat pillows and spreads his legs invitingly. Slit leans over him, their lips nearly touching. “What do you want now?” he purrs.  
  
“Take me to bed,” Nux answers, and Slit can feel the words vibrating off his lips.  
  
Slit reaches between them to stroke Nux through his pants. “Don’t wanna play first?” he says.  
  
“Never said that,” Nux replies, sitting up and forcing Slit back. Slit starts peeling the tshirt up and over Nux’s head, revealing the ink on his chest. His fingers run over the engine almost reverently. Nux has him on his back now, kneeling between Slit’s legs, their chests touching. Slit’s bones are aching in anticipation.   
  
The next few minutes are a conversation with no words, Nux frotting like a bunny, Slit’s hands on his hips, encouraging, Nux’s teeth digging into his shoulder, so hard Slit’s sure he's drawing blood. They swell and sink in harmony, Nux’s breathless groans sometimes accompanied by a rattling cough, but always followed by Slit running fingers down his back in silent solidarity.   
  
They wind up in a pile on the floor—the sofa just isn’t sufficiently large enough for that kind of activity—and Slit volleys for control. “I’m on top,” he crows, caging Nux between his arms. There is luckily a half-full container of lube stashed under the sofa and Slit feels around blindly for it, even as he’s sticking his fingers into Nux’s mouth and telling him to get them nice and wet. He yanks Nux’s pants down his slim hips and pushes them aside, unzipping himself.  
  
They can’t get the angle right at first, which is strange, considering how many times they’ve done this, but Slit finally shoves a pillow under Nux’s hips and slides inside him. He buries his face in Nux’s shoulder, sucking up a dark bruise to last him a few days. Nux is moaning in his ear, clear as a bell for once, and Slit feels a wave of encouragement, starting to snake his hips. Nux complains, something about tearing and Slit bullies him over and onto all fours. Grabbing him by the waist, Slit pulls Nux flush against him and slips back inside him.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” he groans. Nux puts one shoulder to the ground, stroking himself out of rhythm with Slit’s forceful fucking. Slit’s fingers jab into Nux’s left hip and thigh as if trying to dig out holes in his flesh while Slit’s other arm is wrapped around his waist possessively. Nux whines, encouraging Slit to fuck him more, _fuck him harder_. Their bodies writhe in and out of various positions, Nux never satisfied until he finds the perfect one and finishes himself off. Slit follows close behind, pulling out and coming across Nux’s chin and chest. Nux is grinning like an idiot by this point and Slit can’t help but laugh, shoving a hand towel at him.   
  
A few hours later, after they’ve showered and drank a few beers and gone to bed, Slit rolls over into an empty space on the sofa. He’s groggy and confused, fingers searching for Nux in the sofa cushions to no avail. It’s freezing in the room and Slit grumbles, sitting up. Nux must be in the toilet sick again. He peers across the room but can’t see a light under the bathroom door. “Why’s it fucking cold?” he grumbles, starting to gather a heap of blanket from the foot of the sofa.   
  
A rippling shadow catches his eye. “Fuck.”   
  
Slit nearly kills himself tripping over his own boots on the floor, but can’t stop because he has to get to the window, Nux is in the window, _Nux is standing in the fucking window_ , arms out like a fucking bird about to fly off, and Slit grabs him by the wrist to jerk him back inside.   
  
He swears Nux hisses at him. Slit snatches the stub of a blunt out of his hand and stomps it out under his bare foot. “I told you not to fuck around with that shit when you’re on all those fucking meds,” he growls, slamming the window shut and locking it for good measure. It’ll take hours to warm up the room again after so much cold air was allowed in. “You’re fucking mental, Nux, I swear to fucking _hell_.”  
  
“I wanted to know what it’d be like,” Nux offers, eyes looking more hollow than ever in the bare lighting.  
  
“What _what’d_ be like?” Slip snaps at him.  
  
“Crashing.”  
  
  
  



	3. 3

Slit wakes up to the feeling of terror again. He and Nux went to bed after Slit nearly had a heart attack watching him swaying in the open window, Nux simply saying he’d had too much to drink or smoke or didn’t have enough oxygen in the stuffy room. Slit _thought_ he’d snared the little shit in a sufficiently binding headlock as they went to sleep to avoid going through the same scenario, but here he is, waking up to nothing but air and pillows.  
  
He rolls over with a start, like he could spring into action at a moment’s notice only to see Nux sitting at the kitchen table, pencil in hand.  
  
“Could you try not to move so much?” Nux complains. “I’m almost finished.”  
  
Slit chuckles, a deeply vulgar noise. “Why? Tryin’ to yank it over there?” He crosses the room to lean over Nux’s shoulder, staring in restrained amazement at his artwork. “So you’ll work on a fucking drawing of me sleeping but the tat you started on my back has been unfinished for almost a year?” he quips teasingly.  
  
“Have to go where the inspiration is,” Nux replies, setting down his finished drawing. “You should get dressed already. We’ll be late for work.”  
  
Slit turns on the instant coffee maker and takes a good look at the completed drawing. Another one for the art studio they’ll have some day. “’We’?” he repeats. “Does this mean you’re ready to re-take your test?” He is careful not to bring up last night’s display of dumb-assery.   
  
“As I’ll ever be. ‘Sides, my chassy’s sposed to be comin’ in today. Been waitin’ almost a month,” Nux says, mouth full of toast with jam. The young mechanic had been working to put together an off-road racer for a little over a year, extravagant parts having to be shipped from all sides of the country.  
  
Slit nods, pleased for him. “That’ll be chrome.” He makes himself coffee while Nux goes to get ready. It’s bitter and tainted with dish soap and he ends up throwing the whole thing out, giving a frustrated kick to the cupboard door.   
  
He makes certain that Nux has taken his dozen morning meds and is wearing enough warm clothing before they leave. They take a drafty bus down to the shop and Slit is attuned to every shiver, every sigh, the color of Nux’s cheeks, and he tries to stop himself. He tries to convince himself that it’s nothing, that he’s fucking cold too, but it never helps.   
  
When they arrive, Slit loses track of Nux immediately, the two of them working on different sides of the multi-room garage and Nux making a beeline for the deliveries store-room. But, it’s fine. Even if Nux were jabbering in his ear, Slit would still be blocking out everything except the job he’s working on. There’s something mystical about the garage. The engines thrumming without mufflers, the smell of oil and grease and sweat, the feel of his own muscles stretching and moving on a difficult job. Home worries—about Nux, or the rent or the bills—don’t exist here. If Slit were a spiritual person, this is what he’d be praying to: the Almighty Machines.  
  
He loses track of time lying underneath a Ford Falcon and tinkering with the engine. Slit’s just about to start unscrewing the panel when he feels himself being tugged by his boots and the creeper goes rolling out with him on it. He’s furious enough as it is, but seeing Nux’s idiotic grin is enough to set him off.   
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, noting that they are the only two still in the garage. Must be lunch time. “I’m in the middle of something here.”  
  
“I passed!” Nux crows with delight. “I passed the cert!” He’s holding up a printout with his score and all but jumping around like a lunatic with excitement.  
  
“That’s great,” Slit says, trying to look unimpressed. He’s secretly pleased, knowing how much this means to Nux. “Guess we’ll have your sorry ass stinking up the place forever then.”  
  
“You’re right about that,” Nux says, arms crossed with a big smile.   
  
_If only…_ Slit thinks to himself morbidly. “Well, we should celebrate tonight,” he decides. “Pick up a couple bottles of vodka…”  
  
Nux interrupts him. “Tonight?” he scoffs. “No. I want to commemorate my victory right now.” He is walking forward and closing in on Slit.  
  
Slit laughs loudly. “You’re joking,” he insists. “Here?”   
  
“I can’t think of a better place to celebrate me becoming a certified mechanic, can you?” Nux has him there.   
  
They crawl into the cramped backseat of the Falcon, Nux sliding in first, leaving Slit to climb over him, knees and hands brushing and bumping. Nux is already slinking out of his pants, shoving them into the floor. Slit helps him out of his shirt and immediately nips his throat, eliciting a growl from Nux. Slit reaches between them to handle the equipment between Nux’s legs and Nux yelps, already hard and leaking. Slit smirks, wrapping a grease-stained hand around Nux’s mouth. “Shhhh,” he whispers. “Someone might still be around and decide to take in a show.”  
  
Nux starts to rub himself against Slit’s arm, desperate and needy. “Horny little pup,” Slit teases. “Do you want to get off?”  
  
Nux moans, licking his lips as Slit removes his hand. His lips are chapped but shiny with Nux’s spit and Slit can’t resist biting at them. Nux groans as Slit rolls his lower lip between his teeth, pulling his head back to tug his lips.  
  
Slit leans back and hums in appreciation at Nux, already quivering and trying to grab him. “Look at you,” he tuts. “So greedy for it.” Nux nods, biting his swollen lip. “I want to hear you beg for it, boy,” Slit says in his most dominant voice. He knows how Nux secretly likes for him to take control, to be forceful, and he indulges it rarely if he’s in the right mood. But today is Nux’s day.   
  
“Please,” Nux whispers. “Please let me get off, Slit…” Slit has moved back too far for Nux to be able to rub against him and as a result, Nux’s hand has drifted down to grasp at his cock, just as greedy as Slit had said.  
  
Slit grabs Nux’s hands and pushes them back against the seat over Nux’s head, effectively restraining him. His body lingers over Nux’s, the fabric of his pants almost caressing the bare skin. “Do you think you could come from this?” Slit asks, smiling devilishly.  
  
Nux whimpers and nods, pulling against Slit’s grip uselessly. In his writhing motions, Nux’s skully falls off, revealing his bald head. Slit’s become so used to seeing Nux this way, he can’t even remember what his hair looked like. He remembers brown, but he can’t remember the shade. He knows it was above Nux’s shoulders but he can’t remember how it fell around his face. This is his Nux now: naked and exposed. Not a hint of self-consciousness in him. Bravest son of a bitch that ever was.  
  
Slit’s upper body briefly rubs against the engine block tattooed into Nux’s chest before he pulls back, letting go of his wrists. _Best get on with it before everyone returns back to work,_ he reasons. Slit grips the base of Nux’s cock with his fist, starting to stroke the shaft with Nux’s pre-come as lube. Nux moans under him, his hips thrusting in rhythm with Slit’s hand. Slit sticks two fingers into Nux’s open mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me, boy,” he orders. Nux obeys, lapping at Slit’s fingers avidly. Once they’re sufficiently coated, Slit nudges his legs apart and starts to work his fingers inside him. Nux’s head rolls back and he bites his lip again, insatiable. Slit starts to stretch him open with his two fingers, scissoring and fucking him with his hand.   
  
Nux is nearly thrashing at this point, trying to grab at Slit’s neck to pull him in closer, presumably to bite his shoulder or his neck. “Hands at your sides,” Slit instructs him. Slowly Nux follows the order, gripping the leather seat underneath him to stabilize himself. Slit’s stroking him faster now, fingers still fucking his tight hole out of sync. He contorts himself in the small space to lean forward and wrap his lips around the slick head of Nux’s cock, eyes open and watches Nux’s face as he does so. Nux is coming apart quickly; Slit can see the muscles in his stomach tightening as he prepares to release. Slit jerks him off harder and faster for a few seconds before he’s hit with Nux’s hot load spilling into his mouth. He swallows it all and efficiently licks him clean.   
  
Slit sits back on his haunches, adjusting his pants to hide his own erection. “Get dressed,” he says to a blissed-out boy about to fall into the floor board. “And eat something. I’ll see you at the end of the day.”


	4. 4

They’re both sweaty and tired when they board the bus together at the end of the day-- _sweat’s bad for cold weather, make him sick, make him real sick_ \--but satisfied with a hard day’s work. Nux even lays his head on Slit’s shoulder—only once and only for a moment before Slit shrugs him off grouchily. After trudging down icy cold sidewalks, they pile inside the apartment and Slit flicks on the little space heater.   
  
“Go shower,” he growls. “You stink.”  
  
“You love it,” Nux replies, but goes to the bathroom regardless, opting for a bath by the sounds of it.  
  
Slit heats up some leftover Chinese from a few nights ago and starts flipping through his hot rod magazine absently. When his phone rings, he plans to ignore it-- _bloody surveys or telemarketing_ \--but fumbles frantically to answer when he sees that it’s Joe.  
  
He answers the phone, barely knowing what to say in greeting. Joe never calls him, never calls any of the boys. He goes with “Sir?” and hopes for the best.  
  
“I’m sending some of my best boys on an assignment south of here,” Joe says in his booming, commanding voice. “If you want to be part of it, you must tell me now.”  
  
Slit’s eyes get wide. He’s heard of this assignment before. Once a year, Joe sends a dozen or so of the boys south through the desert to try poaching new mechanics (and other things) to bring back and make Joe’s mechanic army even stronger. It’s the envy of all the younger boys and the privilege of those deemed worthy of receiving the phone call Slit’s getting now. Four weeks of driving Joe’s best machines through the hot desert air, engines revving, tyres sliding through the terrain. Some boys don’t make it back from the trip. Whether they’re killed or find work elsewhere or get poached themselves, those left behind at the shop never know.  
  
Slit’s heart races with excitement just thinking about it.   
  
Then the water in the bathroom shuts off.  
  
“Sir,” Slit says quietly, his voice off a bit as he hurries out to the hallway. He would do anything for the shop, anything for Joe. “I’d love to go, but…I can’t leave Nux here.” It would kill Nux if Slit went on the South Mission without him. Maybe literally. Slit can’t be away from him for a month, he just can’t.  
  
“Then bring him,” Joe says, rough voice sounding as if he couldn’t care either way. “Boy’s got his cert now, may as well join you.”  
  
“Yes, Sir!” Slit answers, hurrying back inside and nearly smashing a confused Nux with the door. “We’ll—we’ll be there first thing tomorrow, yes, Sir, thank you!” He ends the phone call abruptly and with all the energy of Nux, but then just slides the phone back into his pocket and casually walks back to the microwave to retrieve his dinner, silent.  
  
Nux bounds after him. “What’s going on?” he asks. “Slit? Slit!” He’s buzzing around Slit like some kind of flying insect and Slit dutifully ignores him to Nux’s increased agitation. Nux grabs Slit’s food away and runs over to the counter to hide it behind him. “Tell me what’s going on!” he demands.  
  
Slit follows him to retrieve his food, enjoying himself far too much. Nux fights him off, determined to defend the leftovers until he’s given an answer. Slit isn’t taking him seriously, thinking it’s all in fun and that’s the _only_ reason he gets headbutted. Nux nearly succeeds in knocking him over. Nux does succeed in giving him a headache.  
  
“Auuugh!” Slit growls. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, you little shit?!” Nux holds his ground, arms crossed stubbornly. “God, can’t take a joke, fucking sleg…” Slit continues to complain, feeling a knot forming on his forehead.  
  
“You better tell me what’s going on,” Nux threatens, “or I’ll rip your face open.”  
  
“Jesus, you don’t have to be so fucking aggro,” Slit laughs. “Might want to save some of that for the road.”  
  
“The road?” Nux parrots. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Slit allows Nux to put the pieces together. Slowly. His eyes widen comically. “You mean—you _mean_! Both of us?! For the South Mission?! Four weeks! Four weeks out of this shithole! We’ll take my car, yours is fucked, never make it, but mine is finished, just need to go make a few adjustments tonight…”  
  
He carries on like this, distracted enough to allow Slit to retrieve his food. He’s just sitting down to listen to the rant and enjoy his dinner when Nux tackles him from the side again, sitting on top of him on the floor. “God dammit, Nux,” Slit grouses as his food flies across the table. “That was my last lo mein.”  
  
Nux is bouncing on him like a kid. “Who cares?” Nux scoffs. “We’re gonna be part of Joe’s war party now. And if we succeed, we’ll have all the food and drink we want.” That’s the rumor, at least. Do a good job, don’t get killed, make it back and you get a big fat bonus cheque and Joe’s approval. Maybe even a “thank you” or “good job”. Nux may be idealizing it a bit, but Slit wouldn’t turn down any reward Joe cared to offer.  
  
“Fine, whatever,” Slit mutters. “Are we gonna go fix up the car or what?”  
  
Nux is off him like a rocket, throwing on his coveralls, Slit following him, baffled and amused.   
  
  
  
  
Nux would never tell Slit, but at his last visit to the doc, he’d been given a grim report: two weeks, maybe a month before it eats him alive. He doesn’t want to die in the soft, cold city. He doesn’t want Slit to wake up to him lifeless and gone. Nux wants to die behind the wheel, under the open sky, amongst the shouts of his fellow mechanics, with Slit yelling the loudest. He wants to be a legend, a story that gets told to the younger boys. He wants for Joe to be proud of him. He wants for Slit to be proud of him.   
  
He just wants one final adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, lead in to the AU of the film, I’m assuming. But our story ends here, dear ones. I hope that you enjoyed it. Sorry for the sad. :/


End file.
